Blackmail and Bribery
by lun27
Summary: Hermione needs none other than Lucius Malfoy to help her shine a light on a particular case she is working on. But a Malfoy doesn't work for free and so she finds herself playing his game to achieve her ends. -o-"Isn't it obvious, Miss Granger?" His voice was so low, it was barely a whisper. "I'm sure your beautifully structured brain can figure it out."-o- Lumione Smut one-shot.


**Writeaholics Smut Challenge: ****Write a smut-focused story that has a plot.**

Thank you to Verity Grahams for beta reading :3

* * *

"This wouldn't be quite so uncomfortable if you'd just left those books on my desk," he said, his voice husky, muffled by the wooden echo of their breaths resonating in the small room.

Hermione felt the heat from his body radiating along her shoulder and arm. The only thing between them was the stack of heavy tomes which she had been reluctant to leave on Lucius Malfoy's desk. They were now searching the embarrassingly small – and fairly disorganised – Ministry archive on lawsuits involving magical creatures.

She couldn't even find a euphemism for it. It was a broom closet. She squinted through the dull light shining from a single naked bulb, powered by a small magical orb inside instead of the wires glowing how she was used to from her Muggle home. Hermione could even make out a metallic bucket squeezed into a corner between two massive file cabinets. Hanging over its side were stinky and probably mouldy cloths. It was _literally_ a broom closet.

Suddenly, two strong hands snatched the books she clung to her chest. She had brought them personally from the Hogwarts Library; they focused on werewolf history and had weighed heavily in her already sore arms. Before she could even make a disgruntled noise, Malfoy had disposed of them high above her head, atop dangerously swaying stack of papers.

"You'll need your hands if you want to find those records, Miss Granger," he purred.

"If you had just taken five minutes to get them when I requested, I wouldn't need my hands to dig through five inches of dust right now," she seethed and pushed past him to get deeper into the room. He made no move to step aside so she brushed up against his expensive midnight-blue dress shirt, shuddering at the sensation of being that close to Malfoy. Hermione tried to not think about it.

She had to squint to read the backs of the folders in the dim light. In nearly unreadable cursive they were labelled with their contents, ranging between '_Unauthorised property crossing during full moon' _to '_Theft of potions ingredients for Wolfsbane'._

Hermione was searching for a particular case; the murder of Fenrir Greyback.

Behind her, she felt rather than heard Malfoy move closer. He had a quiet way of walking, and it made her jump when he suddenly appeared. But when his arm grazed hers and his large, warm hand pushing her gently aside, she shuddered, and he looked at the files she was rifling through.

Hermione felt her heart rate increase, leaving her feeling like a nervous rabbit on an open field.

His shadow fell over the lines she was trying to decipher. Why had Malfoy closed the door behind them? The lights in the hall might have helped somewhat, she thought with irritation bubbling inside her.

"So you would have me dirty my hands instead? I don't think so," he replied from behind her; his tone more befitting that of a spoiled emperor. "Also," suddenly his voice was right behind her, his warm breath tickling her neck where small ringlets had fallen from her tight bun, whispering, "I wouldn't have had the chance to admire your beautiful hands. The delicate digits that you are so fond of burying in your beloved books; I wanted to see them roam through the archive."

Enraged, Hermione spun on her heel, nearly knocking over the tower of files with her books balancing on top. She was not prepared to find herself nose to nose with Malfoy, and it threw her off balance. She would have probably died buried under all those files, but Malfoy had unexpectedly caught her and pushed her a step backwards so she was safely away from the imminent danger.

"How dare you mock me like this," she hissed, pulling free from his grip only to find herself with her back to the wall of the little archive née broom closet. Malfoy had her caged in with his wide shoulders. "It is your job to declassify files from the classified archives. Although I seriously question why the Ministry would put an—" she stuttered, "—someone like you in charge of such an important task."

"Do you mean a Death Eater?" he asked, looking at her predaciously, like a panther ready to pounce on its prey at any sign of weakness.

Hermione straightened up. She wouldn't let Lucius Malfoy intimidate her. "Actually, I meant to say _Ex_-Death Eater, but it's the same difference, I suppose."

He cocked an eyebrow. "Is that so?"

Hermione was unsure what he was insinuating and decided it was best to drop the topic. He might be reformed, but Lucius Malfoy was a dangerous man. She was ashamed to admit that he intimidated her just a little, something no one else had managed to do. It made her stomach tingle with an unfamiliar sensation.

So instead of replying, she pursed her lips and returned to searching the files. Alphabetical order was something this 'archive' desperately needed.

To her surprise, Malfoy started shuffling through the narrow shelf above her, which would be impossible for her to reach. He wasn't being completely useless at least. She could feel his chest pushing into her back and had to suppress the childish urge to push back to get a little more room. He seemed to have no sense of personal space whatsoever. Her throat felt strangely constricted, heat crawled up her neck and swallowing was difficult.

The Ministry archives were underground and cold, but the room felt stiflingly hot, his proximity was like a radiator to her overly alarmed senses. She noticed his smell, surprisingly soft and reminding her of dried wood waiting next to a fireplace. It made a warm shiver run down her spine; Hermione tried not to breathe too deeply.

"You should know, I usually don't fetch the files personally. It's not exactly part of my job description," he said, stretching far above her to reach the back of the shelf. He managed to pull a file free that had been crumbled, shoved to the back of the wall by some careless hand, too lazy to organise it properly.

Malfoy rifled through the paperback file he had freed. "I just decide on which requests get accepted and then I send some of the secretaries here to get it."

"And why didn't you do that instead of having us dig through all this dust? I'm sure they would have a better idea of where to look at least."

He didn't reply, presumably focused on the file he was still holding.

"What's that?" she asked, leaning over his arm to peek at the file.

He snatched it away from view and peered down at her, amusement glinting in his eyes. "Suppose I found what you are looking for," Malfoy said, but made no move to hand it to her.

Hermione stretched her hand open in a demanding gesture, pushing the other in her hip.

Looking down at her, he said, "You asked why I would grant such priority to Greyback's case earlier…"

Hermione felt the corner of her mouth twitch in annoyance. She hated when people purposefully left sentences unfinished. She hated when people withheld information from her. She was a naturally curious person, and to her, it was the most annoying habit a person could have. Although, she was pretty sure Malfoy did it on purpose to keep her in suspense.

Crossing her arms, she tilted her chin further up, facing Malfoy square on. "What do you want? Do you really think you can _blackmail_ me? Because I assure you, if you don't hand that file over, I will find other ways to—"

"Blackmail is such an ugly word, Miss Granger." He smirked. "I've been watching how you run your department; eager to open another case no sooner than you closed the previous ones. At first, I was thoroughly annoyed, but it's like watching an anthill — confusing and chaotic at first, but when you dare take a closer look, the efficiency of it is quite a _beautiful_ thing."

She scrunched up her nose, thinking of her previous department head. He had been sloppy and lazy to boot, always drawing out his cases. "I take my work seriously." She held her chin high as she said that, ready for him to mock her or criticise her. Many had looked down upon her before, she had proven herself and wasn't afraid of judgement any longer.

"Of course you do." He smiled and Hermione was thrown for a moment, seeing such a rare expression on his face.

Usually, Malfoy reserved his smiles for the Minister and other more influential people. Those who would grant him everything he wanted for a little compliment and recognition. It seemed that the opinion of Lucius Malfoy meant a whole lot more than any official position. He had a way of making people feel important, and all he had to do was waste a sliver of his time on them.

And now he smiled at her. Not one of his cold, degrading smiles. Hermione knew those all too well. It was one of appreciation and for the first time, she understood the desire others had to appease him.

She shook herself out of her reverie, berating herself for earning for the appreciation of a Death Eater, reformed or not. He was not a man to associate with; he meant danger.

"Is there any way my work has not been acceptable?" she questioned, raising an eyebrow challengingly.

"On the contrary, it was frustratingly thorough and organised. It took me quite a while to work a flaw into one of your cases, just a little something that would cause you to pay me a visit. And now, here we are."

"You—what?" Hermione was again taken aback. The gears in her head were not engaging in the way that they should, coming to a dysfluent halt. Suddenly, she was all too aware that his dominant form blocked the exit, that his broad shoulders took up nearly all free space between the towering files and cabinets.

"Oh, don't be afraid, little bird. I'm a collector, not a criminal. After all, they granted me a pardon, of that, you should be aware."

"A _collector_?" Hermione felt herself stammering, unable to form a clear trail of thought.

It was awfully cramped in the small room; they stood so close. He was still holding the file that she desperately needed, and she was standing with her back against a wall of cabinets. She could smell the old paper files, the metallic drawers storing even more documents, the dampness of the cleaning tools shoved into a corner and she could smell him.

He smelled like resin seeping through the cut bark of a centuries old fir. It was intoxicating.

"And I assure you, I only collect willing women."

He leaned in close and Hermione suddenly felt flushed. What would he do? Disturbed, she realised that she wasn't afraid or worried. What she felt was anticipation. She stared up into his gleaming eyes; his long hair fell forwards around his face, casting soft shadows over his cheekbones. She was lost.

Hermione knew exactly what the feeling was. It was bubbling inside her like a fever-inducing potion, and she was the cauldron. It was pure, shameful wanton for this man; a man who had cornered her in an impossible situation to… _collect_?

"What do you collect?" she murmured, her face flushed.

He smiled again, patronising amusement adorning his lips. "Isn't it obvious, Miss Granger?" His voice was so low, it was barely a whisper. "I'm sure your beautifully structured brain can figure it out."

She blushed at his words. "And you will hand me the file without further demands after?"

"I'm a man of my word."

She felt like she should tell him off or mock him for his presumption that she would do anything of the sort. A small part of her still questioned if she had completely misread the situation, maybe. Would she make a fool of herself? The hungry part inside her, the bubbling feverish potion part, was growing restless, stretching its fingers, ready to take control, to take what she desired.

One thing was for sure, she was a Gryffindor through and through. Because it took all of her courage to do what she did next.

Raising a hand, she searched his piercing grey eyes, touching the soft fabric of his robes where the collarbone meets his chest.

"You didn't give me your word yet, though," she whispered, letting her eyes drop to his neck. His pale skin looked vulnerable there, so thin as it stretched over tiny veins and muscles. She let her fingertips glide higher, just to the edge of his collar to trace the line where fabric covered skin.

He grabbed her elbow and pulled her close until they stood chest to chest, her gaze flitting back up to his face in surprise.

"You have my word. I will hand over the files, if you grant me just one kiss, my little lioness."

The fire within her belly roared to life like Armortentia in its final stages when it had to be heated up until it nearly boiled over. Hermione didn't find the time to question what she was doing, her senses were clouded by the warmth radiating between them. She had left Ron nearly five years ago, they had barely left school, and never since those early times of their relationship had she felt this alive.

She was no coward. She was a woman who took what she wanted, and at this particular moment, she desired nothing more than feeling those enticing lips on hers.

She could play his game as well. She raised on her toes and touched her mouth just to the corner of his, teasing with softly opened lips. Hermione found a thrill in the way he hummed with disappointment.

She felt his hand steadying her at the waist, pulling her further up and moulding to her figure like wax melting over his muscular frame. She allowed her fingers to trail up his chest and along his neck, feeling his pulse throbbing with a steady beat against her fingertips.

Hermione dropped back on her feet, removing herself from his grip in a single motion. She had tasted the forbidden fruit, and now she wrestled down the beast inside her, which was striving to break out. It was time to take control of the situation. She had learned one thing when rising the ranks of the Ministry, to never play your full hand at once.

Malfoy wanted something from her, and now she held him in the palm of her hand. A hand that she stretched out, demanding for the file that he was still clutching.

The man in front of her slowly opened his eyes, peering down at her with a mixture of unfulfilled desire and mild irritation.

"You gave your word," she said, matter of factly.

He pursed his lips, clearly not liking the way that she had played him. "Indeed, I did," he said finally.

The paper was warm where he had held it. Just like the triumph that had ignited inside her.

* * *

"I will be more precise with what I promise this time," he grumbled as Hermione opened the top button of her blouse, her eyes on the permission letter Malfoy needed to sign.

She needed it so she could publicise the flawed case which claimed Greyback's demise. The body that had been found was clearly not Greyback and the man was probably still roaming the woods of Russia or perhaps he had reached southern Germany. Someone in the Ministry had wanted him to be believed dead, for whatever reason. She was adamant to find out, so she needed to make this case important enough to the public. This would enable her to get permission to research it, and the resources to do so.

She had found secret delight in the glances Malfoy had been sending her whenever they had passed each other in the halls. She thoroughly enjoyed the quiet irritation he had displayed when she had flirted with Draco in the cafeteria, just to spite him, of course.

Hermione had found a game that she enjoyed playing and for the first time in her life, and a sense of Slytherin smugness pulsed through her each time she felt she scored a win. She had always known that there was this hidden dark streak in her, demanding to go all the way, to not stop at cruelty to get what she wanted.

Usually, it was far easier to receive the desired outcome, but that was often due to her closeness to the 'Chosen One' as well as her own status as a war heroine. With Malfoy, however, she needed to actually work for what she desired. She found that there was a certain pleasure in it for her too.

She had been unable to stop herself from thinking about him, about the small chamber he had lured her into before revealing his motives, the way he had seemed anything but disappointed when she had done her best to do exactly that.

No, he had been thrilled by her cleverness, she could see it in the careful choice of words as he regarded her now; his eyes dropping briefly to the exposed sliver of skin below her throat.

"What do you suppose you could offer me for this?"

She pouted a little. "Isn't it enough to know that you made the public aware of the danger that's still lurking out there? Greyback was—or rather is—one of the most deadly among Lord Voldemort's followers."

Of course that didn't seem to phase him one bit. Hermione hadn't expected it to, she just liked to drag out their little game some more. She enjoyed playing the innocent, unsuspecting damsel because she could see that this turned him on. Or at least it brought him some form of enjoyment, otherwise he wouldn't waste his time with her, and she really wanted him to.

"You know very well, I'm a selfish man." He smirked up at her.

He hadn't bothered to offer her a seat, simply leaning back in his chair upon her entry in his office. It was another of his power plays, but this also put her in the favourable position of looking down at him. It offered the perfect opportunity to lean forward, arms braced on the oak wood table between them to allow just a tiny glimpse at the red lace bra she wore under her silky blouse.

"This is essential for keeping the citizens safe, your involvement in the investigation will surely improve your image in the public eye."

He nodded slowly, his eyes no longer on her face but on her cleavage. "I suppose that could motivate me to consider it, maybe once I finished the cataloguing of archive requests from the Witch Weekly and the Daily Prophet on the recent resolution in the field of magical gardening restrictions. It should take me about a month, maybe two."

"Do you think you could make an exception... for me?" Hermione asked, putting a certain sense of urgency in her voice that she didn't even need to fake. The gall he had to stall her work for two more months!

Rising up again, she slowly walked around the desk, tapping her chin as if thinking, "There must be something I could do, you know, in return. That way you feel like this deal is more _worthwhile_ for you." She trailed off as she came to a halt in front of him.

Malfoy turned his chair towards her, eyes gliding over her body down to the tight skirt she wore; it barely reached her knees. It had been a present from her Mum. The gift came with a comment, 'it's time to start dating again.' Obviously, that had been followed by a wink. She wasn't sure if this had been what her Mum had had in mind, but Hermione was an adult and could have some fun if she wanted to.

His hand came up to her thigh and he slowly pulled her closer until she found herself standing between his knees.

Gliding his fingers across the cashmere fabric covering her hips, he wrapped his hand around her waist, thumb on the soft flesh of her stomach and his fingers spaying wide along her hip bone.

She stopped him with her hand on top of his. "I want your word, Lucius," she purred.

Hermione wasn't a fool, he would try to find a way to pay her back for tricking him last time, but she wouldn't let him.

He hummed in agreement, or in appreciation of her using his given name. She could practically watch him mull over the words he was about to utter. There wouldn't be a chance to fool him twice, that she knew.

"I will sign those papers," he said, pausing dramatically as he smirked up at her, "if you agree to go out with me—"

She shook her head, scoffing. "—No way, I won't let you make this little tryst public. Besides, your wife died just _one_ year ago. I don't need people talking about me behind my back at this point in my career. They'll be thinking I'm a gold digger… chasing after widowed men."

He frowned. "I wasn't finished."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. Surely he was making a joke, he must be delusional to think she'd go out with him publicly.

"You should know that Narcissa and I were divorced long before she died and the entire wizarding population knows you're not a gold digger. Besides, these days I'm poor enough that I actually have to work every now and then. The Ministry has been quite greedy since the war."

Hermione wanted to make a snide comment at how ridiculous it was for him to call himself poor when he was still swimming in golden galleons and silver sickles, but he held up a hand.

"If you want me to sign those papers, you will go out with me and you will let me invite you to, ah, spend the night with me."

Hermione noted his choice of words with surprise. Lucius Malfoy wasn't a prude, and clearly was able to talk outright about sex, so this could only mean that he had deliberately chosen to give her a little wriggle room.

"As for the location, I'm sure you know an appropriate—yet more private—Muggle establishment. Somewhere that no one who knows us could 'talk behind your back'."

She pursed her lips, thinking on his words. It surprised her how respectful he had made his request. Even if she agreed now, she wouldn't sign up for more than a dinner. After all, he didn't ask her to spend the night with him; he simply invited her if she wished.

"Your proposal intrigues me." Hermione leaned forwards just a fraction, just enough so her leg touched the inside of his thigh. Slowly her stocking covered leg rubbed along the expensive fabric of his tailored pants. She could feel the warmth seeping through her thin skin-tone stockings.

His hand on her hip tightened and she felt the strong knuckles move under her fingers as she held him in place. A tremble in the muscle of his forearm revealed the strain from holding back. She could see in his eyes, bright like molten silver, that he wanted to tear her clothes off right there in his office.

She wondered for a brief moment if she should go farther; if she should push up against him, turn him on a little more. Maybe she could just maybe steal a kiss from those sinful lips. His lips taunted her in her dreams, whispering words that made her blush where she lay. It had been like that since they last met.

"I'll owl you a time and place then," she said instead.

She stepped out from between his legs, straightening her skirt where the fabric had slightly bunched up under his fingers. He hummed in agreement, fixing her with an intent stare. Hermione felt a fire in her cheeks and hoped her blush wasn't too noticeable. She nodded in goodbye and walked towards the door.

"Will I get a kiss?" he called after her.

She turned back. "It's not part of the deal."

Malfoy shook his head. "It's not part of _this_ deal."

"We'll see about that then." Hermione found herself smiling as she left the office. She wasn't sure if it was because she would get her way or due to the excitement bubbling within her.

* * *

"I don't know what's more degrading, sitting on a stool that seems to be designed for children or eating with my hands," he said as she unwrapped his burger from the cheap, grease-proof paper they were served in.

Hermione found quiet delight in bringing Lucius Malfoy to the Burger King around the corner from her flat.

"It's the only place I could be sure that no one would stumble upon us on accident," she said innocently.

He raised a single eyebrow. "You cheeky minx just want to see me suffer."

He seemed ridiculously out of place on the screaming red furniture, his hair seeming almost white under the sterile neon light. The king of the wizarding world sitting in a Burger King was just delightfully ironic.

"This is something everyone should eat at least once in their life, Mr Malfoy." She laughed at his sceptical expression.

"If you want me to eat this," he pointed at the burger on the plastic tray in front of him as if it was a particularly disgusting spider, "you'll have to call me Lucius from now on."

Hermione shrugged, trying to hide the excitement pumping through her veins. "Alright, _Lucius_." She dragged out his name as if tasting it on her tongue. She had called him by his given name only once before and she had to admit, she quite liked the feel of it. "Go ahead then."

She smiled as he raised the burger to his mouth, taking an insanely small bite before chewing slowly. His expression changed from sceptical to critical to contemplative as if he was tasting a rather expensive wine.

Lucius somehow made eating burgers look sensual and she found herself transfixed with the way his tongue darted out at the corner of his lips, catching a minuscule blob of ketchup.

She peeled her own burger from its wrapping and took a hearty bite. It wasn't often that she allowed herself to indulge in something so... processed, undignified and ultimately unhealthy. When she did, Hermione didn't allow herself to feel guilty about it and instead she enjoyed every single mouthful.

To her surprise, Lucius had finished his meal complete with a large chilled coke in record time, while she was still licking the salt from the fries off her fingers. He watched her and low in her belly, a hunger sparked that couldn't be sated with food.

She remembered the question he had asked when she had left his office, the simple request for a kiss.

Not quite knowing what her body was doing, Hermione leaned across the table, pausing briefly as her face hovered in front of his and his eyes found hers, and then she kissed him without shame or reluctance.

* * *

Hermione couldn't quite recall when or how they had left Burger King, but she still remembered his hot mouth on hers. She remembered tasting the salt in the corner of his lip, then apparating to an expensive looking London flat.

She pulled back slightly, gasping for breath. "What about the part where you ask me to stay the night?"

"It seems a little redundant, at this point," Lucius purred. His big hands on her hips pushed her against the wall, his lips caressing that sensitive spot right under her earlobe.

A low moan escaped her lips as her head tipped back in pleasure. Her fingers were tangled in his long locks and a hungry growl resonated against her bare throat as she tugged at his hair.

"Don't tease me, little kitten, or I might lose control," he murmured as his teeth lightly grazed the sensitive skin along her collarbone.

She couldn't find a reason why that would be a bad thing, so when his hands cupped her butt, she raised her legs around his hips as he lifted her up and scratched her nails across his scalp. Searching his mouth again, Hermione arched her back, pushing closer to his hot body. She let her core move over his crotch, the friction a delicious tease. She felt him get hard between them and delighted in the power he held over him, grinding against him once more.

"You didn't want it any other way," he said breathlessly after she released his bottom lip.

Hermione didn't quite remember where the ground was or where the ceiling was, so she clung to him as he carried her through his flat. When she tried stealing another kiss, he dropped her unceremoniously on a large bed.

"I don't play games, Hermione," he murmured as he leaned over her, propped up on his strong arms.

She reached for his shirt, pulling at the buttons. "I'm not playing either." Her progressive was slow, but she managed to free him from his linen shirt.

A low chuckle sounded from his throat and then he grabbed her blouse that she had ironed just for the occasion and ripped it open, buttons littering the soft cotton sheets beside her.

Lucius' kisses started at her clavicle and followed a trail to the spot between her breasts, and she felt his breath fan across her sensitive skin, causing a shiver rippling across her upper body. His hair splayed over her exposed chest and she delighted in the tickling sensation as he leaned back again.

"I appreciate this," he whispered, tracing the outline of the emerald lace on her otherwise black bra. "But it needs to go."

Before she could reach behind her back to undo the clasp, he had already murmured a spell and the thin fabric fell apart. Hermione greatly appreciated this as it would be much easier to repair afterwards than if he had just ripped it like her shirt. Her calculating brain was quickly distracted when his right hand cupped her breast, his tongue simultaneously found her other nipple, teasing her until she shivered beneath him. She was barely able to control her hands that still fumbled with the button of his pants, his shirt already hanging open around her.

He kissed her breasts one last time, before he quickly pushed her hands aside and reached lower. His nimble fingers soon moved to undo the button himself, shrugging out of his pants before he proceeded with her tight jeans.

Lucius was a master at multitasking, she noted, as he kissed around her belly button, licking and blowing on the skin until the heat within her wanted to burst free like magma from an awakening volcano.

With his help, she struggled out of her pants. Her underwear went too, leaving her completely naked, his muscular form hovering just above her. Taking his time, his fingers trailed along her narrow waist and over her hips. Then he pushed a knee between her legs, guiding them open and around his hips.

"This is not part of the deal," he said, his voice husky.

"I know." Hermione reached up for his face and pulling him in for another kiss.

She felt like she could drown in this man that was so full of underlying appreciation and sensitivity. She wondered what other surprising virtues might be hidden under that always collected exterior.

He touched her décolletage, letting his hand glide lower over her stomach to the pulsing spot between her legs that was waiting for his attention.

She ached to be touched, to feel more of him, for the pleasure of his practiced fingers, they promised so much as they drew lazy circles, then dipped deeper and pushed into her until her head fell back in a quiet moan, her hands clutching at the sheets.

"More. I want more," she said, her voice breathless with lust.

Hermione reached between them, tugging at the band of his boxers, irritated that he still wore them.

Lucius withdrew his fingers, drawing an angry mewl from her throat. But when he used his hand to discard the final piece of fabric separating them, Hermione purred in content. She reached for his cock, finding him more than ready.

She aligned him and then found his eyes as he slowly pushed into her. Her entire body pulsed and shivered as he filled her, making her feel whole. When he was completely buried in her, his lips found hers, ravished and desperate to taste her.

She pushed her hips up against him, feeling the friction and wanting more of it. Without words, they found a rhythm that was entirely their own. Growing restless, their touches were more fervent, and the tension built until it felt like she would burst.

When she felt him still above her, his muscles trembling, he felt powerful. She felt powerful because she could make him feel like this, she could hold this strong man close to her chest and make him weak just for her.

The knowledge pushed her over the edge, drowning her senses in waves of heat, sending pulses of fire over her skin.

* * *

The next day, she found a white envelope on her desk, '_Hermione'_ written in elegant letters on the back. Inside was the repeal of the obligation for confidentiality and secrecy regarding the Greyback files.

* * *

"Do I have to send you more anonymous tips to lure you into my office? After all, you no longer need me for your case."

Hermione looked up from her work to find Lucius standing there, leaning against her desk. She hadn't even heard him enter her office.

"So _you_ were the one pointing out that Greyback might still be alive?"

He seemed conflicted about revealing his hand, but eventually replied, "Maybe."

Hermione shuffled her papers on her desk into a neat stack. "Well, if you have more valuable information that the MLD should know about, I'd appreciate another tip or two. Regarding me paying you a visit on the other hand... how about you just ask me out?" She said it as if it was a throwaway comment, not even looking at him, too afraid he might laugh at her, but when he chuckled quietly, she didn't feel mocked.

When he politely asked, "Will you join me for dinner tonight?"

She found herself smiling up at him. "How about I cook us something at my flat?"

* * *

**Thank you for reading! Let me know how well I did with the challenge :)**

**I know I should be working on the multichap I promised to publish around christmas, but yeah, it's still in the works... It's great though. I have a lot of fun writing it and you will love it!**


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